


Like honey to the throat (but poison in the blood)

by isquinnabel



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Imaginary Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 12:11:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16263944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isquinnabel/pseuds/isquinnabel
Summary: Anne is overjoyed when she unexpectedly meets an old friend. However, this is the labyrinth, and nothing is quite what it seems.





	Like honey to the throat (but poison in the blood)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/gifts).



> Happy crossovering, Missy! I hope you like it <3
> 
> Title is from Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti.

Anne was deep inside a maze of white stone walls when she heard the footsteps.

She came to a halt. Silence. She tried to shrug it off, but as soon as she began to walk again, the footsteps returned.

“It’s nothing,” she murmured to herself. It was probably just her own footsteps creating some sort of echo. She almost managed to talk herself into believing this, but at the next turn she caught the briefest glimpse of something disappearing around a corner. Something red.

Anne only allowed herself a second to decide whether or not to follow. After all, there was all manner of terrible things in the labyrinth. However, she took a steadying breath and quickened her pace. Her heart was starting to beat faster, and her mind was already conjuring up all sorts of situations in which she might soon become trapped. But following was her only real choice. Running away from all things mysterious wasn’t going to get her anywhere.

At the next turn, it happened again: a quick flash of red. Anne, starting to jog, turned right. She turned left, right, left, left again, another right. She continued to increase her speed, but just couldn’t catch up with the creature. Anne began to sprint outright, but even this wasn’t enough to reach it. To reach _her_. By now, Anne felt certain that her quarry was a girl – the second set of footsteps clattering along the flagstones were too similar to her own, and she would swear to any deity worshipped by human or faerie that the glimpse of red flicking around the corners was the end of a long braid.

The creature turned right. Anne hurtled around the corner, gave a sharp gasp, and flung her arms across her face. She couldn’t entirely avoid hitting the wall, but she managed to slow down enough to keep from hurting herself too badly; nothing worse than some new scrapes and bruises.

Anne stared at the dead end. The footsteps were gone. And, as kept happening in this wretched place, nothing made any sense. The frustration of this was much more painful than any surface injury. Anne was about to indulge in a little shouting – the sheer unfairness of it all was utterly unbearable! – when somebody touched her shoulder. Anne shrieked and whipped herself around.

It was a girl. A plain girl, thin as a rail, wearing a wincey dress and scuffed, unpolished boots. She was exactly Anne’s height, and her large grey-green eyes stared directly into Anne’s own. She had a pale, sickly sort of face, with far too many freckles, and a surprisingly handsome nose. Her hair was tied in two long braids and was very, very red. Anne’s eyes widened with a mixture of shock, disbelief, and great hope. It couldn’t be. It simply _couldn’t_ be. But…

“Katie?”  
“Anne?”

Katie Maurice’s cautious smile slowly became one of delirious joy. Anne laughed – Katie’s face had always reflected Anne’s own spirit. It had been a terribly long time, but things between them were the same as always!  
“Oh, Anne! That was you chasing me?”  
“Yes! I’m dreadfully sorry, did I frighten you?”  
Katie laughed. “Well, I’m certainly not frightened now!”

The two girls flung themselves into an embrace, and Anne couldn’t stop herself from bursting into tears. Oh, the hours she and Katie had spent at the bookcase mirror, lamenting their inability to touch! The best they could ever do was lean their foreheads or palms together, always with a layer of cold glass between them. Anne had imagined, over and over again, what it would be like to hold Katie’s hand in her own. The thought of a warm hand holding hers, leading her gently through the mirror and into a faerie realm was one of her favourite imaginings. The closest Anne had ever experienced to hand-holding was being painfully yanked along by an impatient grown-up, usually towards someplace dreary or unpleasant. The fact that their arms were wrapped tightly around each other’s shoulders, like proper friends, was almost too much to bear; especially in a place such as this. 

Anne breathed shakily, squeezing her eyes shut. Katie’s scent had a rich spiciness unlike anything Anne had encountered before. Anne had been muddling through the labyrinth for hours, and she knew she must smell awful. She never wanted Katie to let her go; they would stay together forever, just as they had always dreamed they might. The only reason she eventually broke the embrace was so she could look at her properly again.

“This is where you live?” asked Anne. “You’ve been here all along?”  
“Not quite here. But close.”  
Katie held out her hand.  
“Would you like to come?”  
Beaming, and with absolutely no hesitation, Anne took Katie’s hand. Katie led her around the corner and, instead of the stone maze, they were in the most beautiful place Anne had ever seen.  
“Oh,” she breathed. There were flowers, growing wild, in every direction; buttercups, clover, wild roses, mayflowers, fuchsias, poppies – endless colour, as far as her eyes could see. A blossoming apple tree stood nearby, and a friendly-looking wood swayed gently on the other side of a sparkling lake. Anne sank to her knees in the soft grass, gazing wordlessly into the brightest, bluest sky. Perfect powder-puffs of cloud floated lazily in the air, while butterflies danced and bees hummed cheerfully as they darted from flower to flower. Anne couldn’t speak. Katie, of course, understood. The two girls sat in silence, drinking in the idyllic scene that lay before them.

“It’s exactly what we always dreamed,” Anne whispered. The fragrance of all those flowers wafted gently on the air, and Anne felt a sense of calm settling into her tense muscles. “Oh, Katie, I’ve missed you terribly.”  
“I’ve missed you too.” Anne’s own years of sadness and longing were reflected in Katie’s voice, and she rested her head on Katie’s shoulder. Katie, in turn, leaned against the crown of Anne’s head.

Anne felt the minutes drift by. Dappled sunlight lay across her face and arms, and the delicate breeze was light and cool.

“What have you been doing since I last saw you?”  
Katie sighed. “Nothing of great importance. What about you? Is Mrs Hammond any kinder than Mrs Thomas?”  
Anne swallowed.  
“Not quite. I suppose… well, I suppose Mrs Hammond has rather a lot to worry her. She has three sets of twins.”  
“ _Three_?”  
“Eight children total. But, yes, three sets of twins! One after the other. I’m to help her care for them.”  
“That sounds exhausting.”  
“It is. Some days I can hardly stay awake. Babies are awfully heavy, you know, and if you’ve been awake all night tending to them, they’re even heavier.”  
Katie shifted her weight, reaching for some nearby flowers. Anne sat up straight again, stretched her back, and took a deep breath. The air tasted fresh and sweet, like a summer morning after a light smattering of rain. Katie reached over and tucked a sprig of clematis behind Anne’s ear. “Is that why you left your realm? The children?”  
“Well…” Anne felt awfully cozy. Coziness could sometimes have a strange effect on the mind; recalling the Hammonds’ place felt almost like remembering a dream. “I suppose. I used to write verse in my head. While I was feeding the children, or trying to coax them to sleep, I would add new rhymes, or improve the ones I already had. I liked to imagine that the perfect spell would summon the Goblin King from his throne room to come and take the Hammond children away from me.”  
“Did it work?”  
“Oh, no, my verses never worked. Not really. I never truly meant to summon him, Katie, honestly I didn’t! It just… it felt so _delicious_ to think I could command him to release me from my burden.” Half an hour ago, Anne would have said that she’d been wrong; that summoning the Goblin King had, in fact, brought an even heavier burden. Now, Anne couldn’t quite bring herself to dwell on such things. She felt light, as though a sudden gust of wind might carry her away. _That might be nice_ , thought Anne. Perhaps she and Katie could live in the sky together. They would float dreamily amongst the clouds, arranging them into beautiful pictures for the delight of all the ground-dwelling creatures.  
“Summoning the Goblin King is much simpler than that.”  
“Yes, I know that now. I didn’t even mean to do it. I was alone with the twins – all six of them – and there was an absolute cacophony of crying and screaming and I wanted to dream about my Goblin King verse, but I simply couldn’t think. One of the boys threw his cup of milk on the floor, and I said something about wishing the Goblin King really would come, and… and they were gone.”

A bee buzzed by Anne’s ear. She watched idly as Katie wove a wreath of lily-of-the-valley, her deft hands entwining the stalks into a delicate design. Anne couldn’t quite see how she did it; Anne was no stranger to weaving wreaths out of any plant she could get her hands on, but Katie’s design was more beautiful than anything Anne had ever managed to create.

When Katie was done, she leaned over and gently placed the crown on Anne’s head. It was a perfect fit.  
“There,” said Katie. “A coronet fit for a wood nymph.”  
Anne closed her eyes, and imagined herself as an elegantly beautiful dryad: whispering her secrets to freshly budding leaves, coaxing life into grievously injured oak trees, and dancing nimbly amongst mazes of roots. With a contended sigh, she lay down in the sweet smelling grass. She knew she’d been frightened of something – she remembered the fear, even if she didn’t quite remember the reason. She knew that, if she squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated very hard, she’d remember what it was. But she didn’t particularly wish to do that.

“We can stay here forever, Anne. Together forever – just like we always dreamed.”  
“Like we always dreamed,” agreed Anne, her voice reduced to a soft murmur.

A butterfly flitted gracefully by, and Anne raised a drowsy hand. The butterfly obligingly came to rest on Anne’s open palm, and she gazed at its sunset-coloured wings; reds, oranges, purples and dark blues, all jumbled together in the loveliest mass of colour. She was about to mumble a compliment at the butterfly – everyone likes to be told they’re beautiful, even butterflies – when a sharp pain pierced her palm. She gasped, snatching her hand back.

“Are you alright?”

Anne stared at her hand. Butterflies didn’t usually sting like that… did they?  
“I think so.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” smiled Katie, twirling another clematis between her thumb and forefinger.  
“Yes, I… I suppose so.”

She wasn’t sure about that. The sting had affected more than just her hand; she’d felt the harsh jab in her mind also. Her brain was just barely clear enough to register the fog snuggling to every crevice of her body. The mingled perfume of the field’s wide array of flowers was heavy on the air; taking a breath felt almost like breathing honey. When Anne turned to look at Katie – her dear Katie – she was watching Anne very closely. An unfamiliar gleam flickered behind her eyes.

“Here,” said Katie, leaning forward. As she began to tuck the flower behind Anne’s other ear, Anne’s whole body tensed, and she slapped Katie’s hand away. 

Katie’s face fell. Anne felt the hurt on Katie’s face in her own heart, but before she could allow herself time to hesitate, she ripped the wreath from her head. 

Katie stared. Anne clawed stray flowers from her hair; her fingernails scratched against her scalp, and she felt her mind slowly feel less and less like curdled milk.

“I made that for you,” said Katie coolly. “It was a gift.” Her eyes were hard, and her mouth was even harder.  
“I don’t want it.”  
“Don’t defy me, Anne.”

Anne swallowed hard. She felt what little color she had drain from her face, and her heart thudded an ominous drumbeat.

“You’re not her.”  
Katie’s eyes widened. “Anne! Oh, how could you say such a thing?”  
“Stop.”  
“Anne, aren’t we friends? After all we’ve been through, all the secrets we’ve shared –”  
“Stop it! You’re not Katie, I know you’re not!”

Around her, the field seemed to turn itself inside-out. It became a barren wasteland, dotted with burnt trees and sharp rocks, and a sky the colour of rusted iron. Anne did not take her eyes off Katie, but she still could not pinpoint the moment she vanished, the Goblin King standing in her place.

Katie was gone.

Anne sank to her knees, the weight of despair dragging her into the dusty ground. She felt far worse than the day she’d left Katie behind at Mrs Thomas’s house. She’d wanted very badly for this Katie – this wicked, faerie-realm version of Katie – to be real. She’d come so cruelly close to a flesh-and-blood bosom friend, only to discover it was all falsehood and goblin trickery.

“It’s not too late, Anne.”

Anne’s eyes were cloudy with tears, and when she looked up, a spherical crystal was dancing lightly across the Goblin King’s hand. He flicked it back and forth, back and forth, and Anne caught brief glimpses of the world she’d just left behind twinkling within its depths.

“I don’t understand the fuss, Anne. If you accept my offer, we both get what we want. I keep the children, while you and your little double live happily ever after in a lovely garden, created especially for you. What could you possibly have to lose? You have no desire to return to that house, especially not with six children in tow.”

He wasn’t wrong. The best outcome Anne could hope for was a successful rescue of the children. And what then? Nothing good awaited her upon return to her world. She would continue to live with the Hammonds in their little house, surrounded by tree stumps, weighed down by three sets of squalling, squabbling twins. The world inside the crystal had been a rare oasis. And yet… Anne could not forget the glimmer that had appeared in Katie’s eyes. The mere memory of it made her shudder.

“It wasn’t real.”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowed.

“None of it was real. And that wasn’t Katie.”

Anne had endured her share of trials, but if there was one thing she couldn’t abide, it was a lifetime spent pretending that some wicked creature in a mask was her beloved Katie.

“I don’t want your crystal.”

When Anne turned her back and began to walk away, his warm, steady voice gained a sharp edge. “The labyrinth is treacherous, Anne. Even souls motivated by love cannot endure it, and you have no love for those children.”

Anne clenched her fists, but she kept walking. He was right. She didn’t love the Hammond children. She didn’t even like them.

“I’m offering you everything you’ve ever dreamed, Anne.”

She fixed her gaze on a burnt tree, its blackened branches twisted and gnarled. Each step took her further away from the Goblin King, but his voice didn’t become any quieter.

“Turn back. You have nothing to gain by refusing me.”

Anne was well acquainted with tyrants, and she knew what it was to live under one. A life owned by the Goblin King was not a life worth living.

 _You have no power over me_ , she thought fiercely, breath shuddering with concealed sobs. When she reached the burnt tree, the wasteland melted out of existence and Anne was, once again, alone in a white stone maze.

She took a deep breath, set her jaw, and turned left.


End file.
